Creampie Dessert Ch. 01

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An adventurous couple tries something new.
5.7k words
4.7
87.4k
133

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 12/31/2017
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Jolene and I met some fifteen years ago. It was a meet-cute, to be honest, where I was walking my golden retriever puppy in the park, not really watching where I was going as my head was sadly buried in my mobile phone. The walk was along what I thought was a seldom-used trail in the county park that was close to the little townhome I'd bought only a few months prior. Which is to say I was not really paying any attention to anything. And I was rounding a bend with the puppy wildly yanking on the leash in its usual state of frenetic excitement when a woman rounded the bend. She was jogging on the trail, and the puppy took to this new person with extreme excitement.

Mostly because I wasn't paying attention and because the puppy suddenly yanked harder on the leash that he'd done at any point, and because it was a rough trail with lots of roots and rocks, the yank from excited puppy pulled me forward unexpectedly, which led to me tripping over an exposed root, which then led to me falling flat onto my face on the trail. All of this happened with such speed that the runner was unable to avoid me, and she fell directly on top of me. That in turn brought her face to face with the young puppy, who took to her instantly with several friendly and full-tongue licks to her face.

I don't know how many times I apologized but Jolene tells me now that it was at least a dozen. I think that, over the years, the number rose slightly. It was probably three or four. But whatever, it's a fun story to tell when we meet someone new and the inevitable questions get asked about how we met.

Being a frequent visitor to the park, I knew of the new restaurant-bar that opened on park property, the one high on the hill providing glorious sightlines to the lake-filled valley below. I knew they were pet friendly, and asked the jogger if she would be willing to get a cup of coffee with me after her run to finalize my apology to her. She gave me a surreptitious up-and-down, and deciding I was good-looking, physically fit and had a cute dog, agreed.

Neither of us could have guessed that the post-fracas coffee-date would have turned into a day-long discussion over some beers, which turned to dinner, which led to more drinks, which finally led to me asking her if she wanted to come to my place for a nightcap, which after she agreed to that and we had another drink, led to us making furious and athletic love on my couch by ten that night. We have been together ever since.

Back then she worked sales. She was always on the road, traveling to places exotic and mundane, and knew the inner workings of hotels and airlines as well as any weary traveler. I had started my own accounting and tax practice two years earlier. I was not rich but was doing pretty well - back then, at twenty-seven, I had my own house and was my own boss. It was boring work (in Jolene's opinion) but set me on a path of financial independence I might have otherwise never known.

Her sales job grew more and more difficult. Though the money she earned was absolutely terrific, she was never at home to spend it. She hated the thought of going away for a vacation because she was always "away." After five straight years of earning over three hundred thousand dollars but sleeping at home with me for less than one hundred nights a year overall, she found a new position. It was still sales, after a fashion, as she got a job at a large, private university in their alumni donations area. The pay cut was enormous, but the benefits - primarily of not having to travel - appealed to her, and by then my earnings from my business were nearing three hundred thousand. We had bought the suburban home with the plans to have children. We were on our way.

Fate or karma intervened; we were unable to have children. We finally received the double-whammy - both of us were practically sterile. The blow nearly ruined our marriage; in the dark days following that news we were perhaps one or two fights away from suing for divorce. But somehow we kept struggling through and the pain subsided and we slowly made our peace with our fate. There were many long discussions over the benefits of adopting, but in the end we decided that if fate was going to keep us naturally childless that perhaps fate had a point.

We got rid of the suburban home - what was the point of having a big house and yard if there were never going to be kids there to enjoy it - and went in for a posh loft condo in an area of the city undergoing furious revitalization. What was one of those areas ten years prior you only visited armed and sporting body armor was now the hottest spot in the city. We got in a little before the real boom took off, so while the loft was pricey it paled in comparison to what buyers faced in the year or two following.

Ours was the top floor of what used to be a five-story brick warehouse-and-factory location. The views of the city and river were simply stunning. The place was all modern flooring and furniture with an expansive kitchen suitable for gourmet cooking. We hosted fabulous parties and generally loved the place and how the luxurious wooden floors created an interesting juxtaposition with the old brick walls.

I moved my offices to a spot just down the road, and usually got to work by walking or riding my bike. Jolene's university was a fifteen-minute bike ride away, and she typically rode every day even in winter. The only thing that stopped our rides were snow or ice. We were members of an "elite" gym (elite only in pricing to be honest) and maintained our physical fitness and overall appearances very well.

We'd always enjoyed a very healthy sex life. We made love often, probably five or six times a week, and truth be told seeing Jolene naked in the morning like after she stepped from the shower and sat to dry her hair and put on makeup was typically enough to wake my desires. There were many mornings that we had enthusiastic sex with her butt perched right on the little stool in the vanity area!

She was trim, not flat as a board but with some womanly curves. Her C-cup breasts were just perfect - they were big enough to draw the eye but not so big as to look sloppy. Even as she entered her fortieth decade those boobs were pert and upright. She had big nipples and they turned out to be exceedingly sensitive. On a few occasions I'd brought her to full orgasm just by teasing her flesh. She had decided in her thirties to get laser hair removal on several key areas of her body but especially the pubic area, and I ended up following to the best of my ability. From time to time we got all horny and used our mobile phones to record sex; it was kind of kinky to see my hairless organs pressing against her hairless organs. It certainly made oral sex easier!

She was entirely satisfied with my organ's dimensions. I wasn't the biggest or longest or thickest but I was long enough and definitely thick enough to stuff her tight little hole full up with meat to get her off. She loved that I loved oral, and rarely did a tryst go by without my lips and tongue on her nether lips, licking and sucking her to delightfully satisfying orgasms.

Given that we were both very fit and healthy as we entered our fourth decade, and given that we were very financially secure I think was the right combination that eventually led us down the path that we took.

Like our meet-cute, the first steps we took down our current path happened mostly by accident. She was browsing Facebook, and saw an ad for an adults-only special Valentine's Day event. It was aimed at sex. Not toys per se, but I guess a celebration of all things sexual. We both knew that it was going to be one of those events where you brought your credit cards because in all likelihood you were going to be parting with a fairish bit of coin. But since we had nothing better to do on the date that it was promoted, we signed up to go.

We were looking forward to the event and were among many other couples who were as intrigued as we. There were couples from all walks of life there - the upwardly mobile like us, the mom-and-dad couples who looked at the more exotic things, chuckled wanly but unable to do much given that they had a bunch of kids at home, and many same-sex couples. There were subtle indications that an active swingers scene existed in our city, something that we were kind of hip to but had little interest in pursuing.

No, it was in a back corner where there were a bunch of items for sale that tended more towards the fetish that kind of sparked us. Jolene reached her hand out to run her fingers lightly along a bright-red nylon cord advertised as bondage cords. "We've never done this," she said softly. Like most couples there, our conversations were as soft as theirs. No one really wanted to broadcast their private conversations with others.

"No, we haven't," I agreed. Throughout the duration of the event my manhood had been alert. Not filled to engorgement, obviously, but being among so many different, naughty and exotic sexy things certainly fired my libido. I knew from the way that Jolene clutched my hand as we walked through the busy event that hers were fired as much as mine.

"I wonder what it would be like?" she asked aloud.

"Well, we could always grab it, do some 'research' and then give it a go," I suggested. I was only able to raise one hand to mimic the quotations around research, given that my left was holding a large black shopping bag that already contained a few items.

"Both ways, right?" I must have given her a look of confusion. "I mean, you tie me up but then I want to tie you up, too," she clarified.

I reacted appropriately, making the right noises while tipping my head backwards slightly in understanding. We ended up getting three lengths of the cord in various colors. On the other side of the panel there was a display that dropped both our jaws. The large display, kind of a corner wall, was decorated with pictures. These pictures all featured men but in two general categories - either well-chiseled or small and lithe. But the common theme was that all of them were wearing panties. So the wall was filled with sexy feminine underwear but clearly set up to be worn by men.

Jolene giggled, and reached out to touch one. "Jeez, these are nice," she commented. She tilted her head to me. "Maybe I can tie up your arms and slip a pair of these up your legs and then take a picture!" she laughed.

"Ha ha ha," I said not finding it nearly as humorous as she did.

Her next comment was entirely idle: "You know, given that you're shaved, I bet you'd look really sexy wearing panties!" Again I laughed it off, thinking nothing of it. We ended up getting a few more items, nothing really all that exotic, just some toys and oils and some really sexy lingerie (later than night when Jolene modeled them for me my cock was about as hard as it ever got). The ropes went unused that night.

We met on Valentine's Day at one of the city's tonier restaurants. I knew that Jolene had gone to work that day wearing that super-sexy set of lingerie she'd bought at that event. She told me that morning how she was looking forward to spending the day at work outwardly dressed in her usual appropriate business clothing knowing that she was dressed as slutty as possible underneath. As deep as I was in tax season, hearing that gave me something to really look forward to beyond staring at computer screens all day while listening to clients complain about the dollar amount of taxes they were paying.

She had worn a black pencil skirt combo to work, and slid demurely into the darkened booth in the back of the restaurant. We got settled, quickly got caught up on the day, and then Jolene winked at me. "I'll be right back," she said, and grabbed her purse and headed off to the restroom. When she got back, and told me to put my hands under the table.

She leaned forward, in such a way that her breasts (beautifully pronounced) rested atop the table top. "I want you to do something for me. I've been wanting to ask you to do this all day. I've been so horny thinking about it," she said, and then bit her lower lip for a moment or two, the only outward betrayal of whatever nerves she might be feeling.

"Okay," I said slowly. I studied her expression. Her eyes were glinting. Her lips were slightly parted, exposing her rows of perfectly aligned and chemically-whitened teeth. She was a gorgeous woman in all aspects, I thought, and one of the joys of my life was doing things to keep that dazzling smile that was currently on her face always on that face. I have told her a few times that it was her smile that kept me going during our dark days.

"It's...exotic," she said.

"Try me," I said.

"Hands under the table?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Good." Her hands found mine, and then I felt the wispy, warm and decidedly damp material pass from her hand to mine. "Go put my panties on for me. I've been leaking all fucking day thinking about you being all prim and proper accountant boy while only the two of us knew that under your pants your cock and balls were all constricted in my little black satin panties. Please do this for me, please!"

I blinked in complete surprise. My mouth opened a little, and it was on the tip of my tongue to refuse. But I saw her expression, so open and pleading, and underneath of it the intense carnal tension she felt. "It'll be kind of a challenge as I have to take my pants completely off you know," I hedged.

She shrugged. "So? The bathrooms, they're completely private, right? And bring me your boxers as proof you're only wearing my dirty wet panties, my wonderful sexy strong husband. Turn me on completely, baby," she cooed.

It is very nearly impossible for any man to resist a gorgeous woman. But when that woman had turned up the sexual fires as high as they will go, and is not only gorgeous but outwardly showing signs of maximum arousal, it's even more impossible to resist. My defenses, such as they were, crumbled the longer I stared at her. So suddenly I grinned, thinking why the fuck not? I put the panties into my pocket, winked at her, and stood and walked away from the table.

My face felt flushed as I walked through the restaurant. I saw people glancing my way, and could not help but thinking do they know? Of course I knew they couldn't, that their eyes were drawn to movement, but when you've clutched your wife's panties tightly in your fist that you then jammed into the front pocket of your knakis, such thoughts are inevitable. I made it to the bathroom and went inside. It was a busy night at a busy restaurant but I lucked out; the stall was open.

It was also a full floor-to-ceiling unit. I closed the door and locked it, and pulled my pants down and sat. I wore simple shoes that day that I could easily slide my feet out of (I often do this as I sit at my desk anyway) and the khakis were loose so they fell around my ankles. None of that was the problem. The problem was that the moment I was in a semi-private and semi-secure area, my physical reaction to my wife's suggested manifested itself.

This wasn't just some run-of-the-mill erection that came and went with ease. This was an immediate blast to fully rock-hard, and my muscles contracted to point my cock upright even more. I was in a fucking bathroom, and all I wanted to do right then and there was wrap my hand around the base and masturbate. I slipped my boxers off silently, and then managed to get my feet into the panties. My cock throbbed even harder! Christ!

As I pulled the panties up, I swiftly discovered that they were far too small. This was made all the more difficult with a raging boner. I was about as tightly packed into the garment as I could get. It was a thong back to make it worse. So I had to finally take my erection and press it against my body angling to the side, and then yank the panties up over it. The outline of my manhood was obvious, and the little garment provided to protection to my balls; they were spilling over on either side of the tight fabric. I struggled to get my pants up and look reasonably presentable; if there was any silver lining in that moment it was that standing up and readjusting my clothing at least caused the maximum swelling to subside if just a little. Finally, I folded the boxers and put them into my pocket, flushed, adjusted one last time, and stepped out into the bathroom.

Again I breathed a sigh of relief as it was empty. I washed my hands, further allowing my erection to die, and then stepped back to look. I could see the outline of my manhood against the khakis, oddly positioned, but felt that with a few steps into the dimly-lit restaurant that no one would know. So the boxers went into my pants, I inhaled and exhaled to try and calm down, and then fast-walked back to my table.

Jolene's hands were still under the table. "All done?" she asked.

"Yes," I admitted as I pressed my folded boxers to her hands. She grinned triumphantly and put my underwear into her purse. She looked at me. "What do you think?"

"They're waaaaay too small," I said. "I'm uncomfortable," I admitted, then continued in a whisper that only she could hear. "But I'm walking back here feeling the bare skin of my ass against my pants and knowing I'm wearing your panties and my cock is so fucking hard!"

Her eyes widened with delight. "Oh my god that makes me even wetter!" she moaned to me.

Well, talk about timing - the waiter made her appearance. She took our orders, made some small talk, and then departed. But then our hands were now atop the tabletop, fingers laced. After our server was again out of earshot, Jolene leaned forward. "I wish I could crawl under this table and play with your cock in my panties!" she said to me. "Oh fuck I'm wet, babe!"

Hearing her talk like that made my swelling return. I shifted uncomfortably in my bench. "That's making my cock hard," I whispered to her, "but doing that it kind of painful!"

"Hah!" she giggled, noting the server was approaching with our glasses of wine. We sat back and somehow managed to get off the subject of sex, although it was heavily interspersed with our conversations that night.

The final act - after we told the server we were not having coffee or dessert and wanted the check - was that Jolene leaned forward and winked at me. "Maybe tonight will have to be recorded for posterity!"

I just smiled serenely. I was anticipating that comment, to be honest. From the start every so often we'd record either in video or pictures our acts of sexual pleasure. We had a special drive that was only connected to the computer when we wanted to browse our own "personal porn" or add to it. The drive was encrypted and secured in a lockbox otherwise. A few of those pictures had actually been posted to the internet at various sites. There were several of my wife covered in my own semen - on her ass, belly, pussy, tits. Those were the ones that got posted. A few of the pictures and videos of her taking my cumshots with her mouth or on her face never got posted. They were for our own enjoyment only.

We had both taken Ubers to the restaurant so while we waited to pay we called for another. We got home and entered the elevator to ride up to the fifth floor. Jolene pressed the "5" button and the doors slid shut. Since we were alone she turned and practically jumped me. Our kiss was deep, passionate, fervent, wild, frantic and purely sexual. This was no chaste little thing in greeting or departure in morning or night. This was the deep-tongue full-body assault that foretold a hot hot night of intense sex. By the time the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open my cock was again throbbing inside of her panties. We walked to our unit, unlocked the door, closed the door, locked it again with the extra deadbolts and then almost flat-out ran to our bedroom.

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